


8 Ways to Say 'I Love You'

by hell_oboys



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 3rd person, 8 ways to say i love you, Awkward! Harry, F/M, Love, Sex, Smut, he uses his athsma puffer once, lovey dovey shit, poem, sluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:39:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hell_oboys/pseuds/hell_oboys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spit it into her voicemail, sigh it into her mouth, Buy her flowers, whisper it into her hair in the middle of the night, blurt it out in the middle of an impromptu dance party in the kitchen, write her a letter in which the amount of circumnavigating and angst could rival Mr Darcy’s. Debate where to leave it all day, wait until something terrible has happened and you can’t not tell her anymore, say it deliberately. Look her in the eyes and pray, heart thumping wildly, that she will turn to you and say, “I love you too.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My blood is drowning in alcohol

##### 1\. Spit in into her voicemail, a little slurred and sounding like the shot of whiskey you downed for courage. Feel as ashamed as you do walking into work in last night’s clothes. Wake up cringing for days, waiting for her to mention it. 

Harry paced back and fourth throughout his apartment mumbling in a tense fashion, all the words he spoke would have been completely incoherent to anyone who heard, though he seamed to know exactly what he was saying, but then again, was he actually saying the same stressed slurs which where repeating wildly in his head. He loved Freya, there was no doubt about that, that wasn’t the topic of the conversation that continued to take place in his mind. Did she love him back? That was the question. If he told her his feelings, the ones that kept him awake at night, forcing him to find a way to build up courage to tell her, would she reciprocate? Was she like him, and caught herself thinking about their future together whenever she saw an old couple walking hand in hand? Did she love him back? Harry couldn’t be sure.

So that was when Harry came to the conclusion he would call her, spit it to her through the phone, so that is what he did, but not after downing a few shots of at this time what he would call, liquid courage. So with the guileless dialling of his phone, made even simpler after having saved her to his favorites only a mere 9 months ago, the phone rang. It continued to ring, and ring, leaving Harry with the less anxiety-provoking ideal of talking to her voicemail. His words were laced with slurs, the obvious sound of his forced intoxication leaving his lips as he confessed his love.  
“frEYA” His soft words turned to desperate yells.  
“I LOVE YOU OKAY, I REALLY DO, I MEAN IT BAB- I JUST LOVE YOU OKAY!”  
Eventually he managed to cut him self off, ending the conversation and loosing his phone somewhere within the seats of his couch. 

Harry’s head began to throb, realisation of what he had just done sinking in, managing to break through pat his intoxication. He needed to see her now, make sure she wouldn’t hear his pitiful excuse for a ‘I love you’, make sure she wouldn’t flea and leave him alone, regretting the words he forced out. So he ran, and he ran fast, his body slowly sobering up with the help of the cool nights air and the shining of the bright street lights glaring into his eyes. When he arrived at Freya’s house he could almost pass as sober, not helping his case when it came to his excuse he believed he would resort to when confronted about the message. But once he rattled his hand against her front door and was met with the image of a over tired Freya standing before him, rubbing her eyes with a look of disgust covering her face due to the fact that she had just been woken from her somewhat peaceful sleep, Harry settled. A smile filled with the sentiment of relief slowly appeared on his face, and though he new she would soon come to find the voicemail he left in a moment of weakness, he did not fret, but breathed calmly and remembered why he sent it.

Harry forced his smirk upon Freya, his lips crashing upon hers as he released a sigh of happiness. Freya’s lips tugged upwards and her mood enlightened, Harry’s happiness having a warm affect on her. With a tug on his shirt she guided him backwards and up the stairs, pushing him back fiercely only to fall upon her soft and welcoming bed before removing herself from the confines of her simple bed top and straddling Harry’s hips. Teasingly she removed Harry’s button up, the one he had worn to work that day and had been too tired, too caught up to remove before arriving. Freya’s hips ground down upon Harry’s creating a smooth rhythm fuelled by the low moans of satisfaction released from both of their mouths. A louder groan rippled through from Harry’s throat and was caught in Freya’s mouth as her lips found his kissing him feverishly. Within no time Harry was completely naked lying underneath the girl he loved so desperately. In a rush he tore Freya from her underwear, took hold of her and lifted her up slightly before stroking himself over once, and placing her back down on top of him, filling her completely. Moans were released from both of their mouths, consistent and similar in almost every way making it hard to say who showed more pleasure in their actions. Harry felt an intense sense of pleasure feeling Freya wrapped around him, warm and damp, Freya was taken by the feeling of Harry, she felt as if he was almost in the pit of her stomach. Harry thrust up impatiently, hitting the most sensitive of Freya’s spots. Her scream made him shiver in realisation of what he had done, something he had never managed to do before. He repeated his actions and Freya became weak above him, pushing down roughly on his chest to find leverage as she began to bounce up and down on his perfectly angled member as Harry continued to thrust up meeting her at each point, making her scream each time. Their thrusts continued to speed up, each of them plummeting towards their highs. “Fuck, gonna-shit, gonna.” Harry moaned out breathlessly. Freya continued to bounce on top of him, her walls becoming increasingly tighter as she plunged into her orgasm screaming Harry’s name. “Shit, Fuck, Shit” Harry moaned, both of them reaching their highs and causing a shiver and moan to fall from Freya’s mouth she collapsed on top of him, her head on his chest as he still remained inside of her.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Harry groaned as he made his way into work the next morning, his eyes heavy and body weak, the lack of sleep he had last night, as he lay awake next to Freya cringing at the thought of the call he had made before seeing her evident upon his face. He remained in the same clothes he had worn to work the day before, and he couldn’t help but feel more ashamed as his fellow work colleagues greeted him with a knowing smirk.

As Harry let his head fall into his hands when he finally allowed him self to take a seat at his desk, his mind filled once again, with the thoughts of the call he had made. Freya was surely going to listen to that voicemail he left, and he only hoped she wouldn’t mention it to him, that she would forget about him and leave him to his ways of avoiding the confrontation that was his love confessional.


	2. Into the air

##### 2\. Sigh it into her mouth, wedged in between teeth and tongues. Don’t even let your lips move when you say it, ever so lightly, into the air. Maybe it was just an exhalation of ecstasy.

Freya lay quietly in Harry’s arms as he slept peacefully on the couch behind her. His head had dipped into the curve of her shoulder and he was softly blowing air from his nose onto her neck sending shivers up her spine, his long and lanky body wrapped around her small and delicate frame, holding her close to him, as if the closer she were to him the clearer his dreams of her would be. Freya turned her head ever so slightly to her left with the intention of watching Harry sleep, but as she did so his eyes began to flutter, and with the realisation of Freya’s body wrapped within his, his lips began to curve up into a smile. 

Harry moved his body, wriggling himself into a more comfortable position leaving Freya to fall into the couch now unprotected by his arms. Freya let a sigh of frustration leave her mouth, causing Harry’s eye’s to open slightly more quickly then he had intended for them to. As his glowing green orbs fell upon Freya in her frustrated position, he noticed she had a look of irritation draped over her face, and he couldn’t help but feel amused and admitted a slight chuckle, toned down due to the roughness of his throat caused by his habit of sleeping with his mouth slightly open. 

Harry rolled to his side, facing himself towards Freya, his face joined to hers by the tips of each of their noses. Harry closed his eyes; allowing himself to relish the moment, feel Freya’s skin against his, even in the most simple and innocent of ways. He could feel the burn of Freya’s eyes upon his face, but it did not feel in anyway judgemental, however more loving. Harry’s eyelids lifted once again with the intention of locking his eyes with those of the girl he loved. His head tilted only slightly to his right, and his lips parted as his mouth closed the few inches that had separated his from Freya’s and attached with a sort of thirst they both had encouraging them.

Freya could only feel Harry in that moment; his wet lips upon hers as their tongues would move together in timely motions. The kiss was passionate, wet, and Freya couldn’t help but feel her heart start to beat at a more rapid pace, feeling her breath catch in the back of her throat as Harry’s left hand took place upon her right check, keeping her mouth to his, as if making sure she weren’t to pull back and try to escape. Freya could feel the ripening of their lips as they continued to press together forcefully, passion flowing between them. 

In that moment both Harry and Freya couldn’t help but want each other, in every meaning of the word. There bodies craved each other, fuelled by lust and compassion, a weird truly uncommon combination. They’re lips continued to move in rhythm, and their hearts began to beat faster, Freya felt the palms of her hands moisten. And Harry felt the rush of adrenaline through his body cause him to shake, and pull away, and stare into the eyes of the girl he admired, and confess his love for her once again.  
“I love you Freya” He sighed, the sound of ecstasy lacing his every word.  
And again, their lips attached.

Freya seemed unfazed by the situation, as if she hadn’t heard Harry at all, but he swore she had, she was looking right at him, watching the way his lips moved at a slow pace, as if every word was as equally important as the last, which to him they where. But still she was nonchalant.

Harry couldn’t help but allow his mind to wander as Freya continued to thrive off his lack of movement, which allowed her to be more dominating. ‘Maybe she wasn’t paying attention, only staring at me’ he thought, ‘Or maybe she thought I was caught up in the moment, that it was a moan of …delirium’. 

No matter what she may have heard or thought, Harry gave up caring. He loved her, and felt as if he should scream it out on the top of the highest building and broadcast it to the world. He loved Freya greatly, a great deal beyond anyone’s wildest imaginations. He just needed to find the right way to tell her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorter due to the part of the poem I have gained inspiration from. But don't fret, there is 6 Parts left!


	3. Feeling Uncomfortable

##### 3\. Buy her flowers. Buy her chocolate. Buy her a teddy bear, because that’s what every romantic comedy has taught you. Take her out to a nice restaurant where neither of you feel comfortable and spend the whole night clearing your throat and tugging at your tie. Feel like your actions are more suited to a proposal than the simple confession of something you’ve always known. 

Harry wasn’t awoken by Freya’s small body thrashing about as it normally did during the night, or by her little murmurs she released during her sleep, all of which made no sense to Harry, but made him fall in love with her increasingly so each time he saw it occur. No. Harry woke after the incessant plea’s of love towards Freya kept rambling around in his mind, and as he turned to his side and found himself asleep beside Freya, his right hand held tightly into her chest, those cries of love where fuelled by her presence and overwhelming need for affection in return. 

Harry’s lanky body jumped from the small bed as quickly as he could manage without waking Freya. He then proceeded to scramble around Freya’s bedroom in search of his clothes, which were thrown off in a mad rush that was driven by the shared passion and ecstasy the night before, and within ten minutes Harry was out the door. Harry’s body was scrambling about wildly as he made his way towards the local flower shop and as he arrived he became vividly aware of his lack of knowledge in flowers and stood around awkwardly trying to remember if Freya had ever mentioned her favourite sort, and if so what they looked like. Harry came to the conclusion Freya had never told him such a thing, and instead he sought out the help of the nice lady who had been standing in the far corner of the shop pretending to clip some roses when in fact they both know she had been standing, staring, giggling at his confused expressions the whole time.

Harry stood patiently in front of the kind lady who had offered him her help, as she drew off the different meanings of the roses and their colours, trying to give him an idea.  
“Well, Red, that obviously means love” She spoke softly and gently as if trying not to overwhelm Harry in his already frazzled state.  
“And pink is like a ‘Thank You’, Orange is ‘Desire’, And white is ‘purity’” She continued before becoming acutely aware of Harry’s loss of concentration.  
“What exactly are you wanting the flowers for?”  
“Um” Harry stammered out, becoming increasingly nervous, how was he supposed to tell someone else of his love if he couldn’t tell her. Freya. And with that Freya’s image popped into his head calming him down slightly and triggering a small smile to shade over his face.  
“You’re trying to tell a girl you love her?” She whispered knowingly as she scampered off to retrieve a single red rose, catching Harry’s blush in the corner of her eye, confirming her suspicions. 

The lady return to the counter with a single red rose in hand, and wraps it delicately before handing it to Harry.  
“A single red rose is said to hold a stronger message of love, so more like the first time you tell someone you love them,” she explains. “Simpler is always better I suppose.”  
And with that Harry manages to grab hold of a ridiculously oversized teddy bear and a lovely box of chocolates before leaving, thankful of the lady’s advice and taunting and somewhat supportive giggling.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry stands nervously on Freya’s doorstep and only momentarily gathers enough courage to ring the doorbell and scamper away into the bushes. He watches Freya open the door in her normal sluggish fashion. She never really liked it when people came to her door, and more so people she didn’t know, which was too commonly the case. They always managed to scam something out of her and leave her feeling horrible and used for the rest of the day.  
Harry then caught her bright smile as her eyes had fallen upon the large teddy bear which Harry had left holding a single red rose, a box of chocolates and a note reading. “Dinner tonight, 7pm, ‘rosso dell'amore’. And when Harry caught Freya’s giggle, and wide grin as she stumbled back inside of her apartment, he was thankful of all the Romantic-Comedy’s, Gemma had forced him to watch as a kid while he would pretended to complain, (when truthfully, not a single complaint was of honest feeling) because they finally taught him something that worked.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The restaurant was busy, and Harry couldn’t stop thinking about Freya and how beautiful she looked in her simple white dress, which sat perfectly on her body, outlining ever curve from her shoulders which were covered in a laced sleeve, to her thighs of which her dressed clung to perfectly, highlighting her long and smooth legs. Harrys continued to scan over to him, what was a perfect body. Freya’s lips where painted in smooth red, much like the colour of the rose he left for her that afternoon, and her hair was loosely curled and left to fall freely on her shoulders, framing her face, and enticing Harry further. 

Harry began to feel very nervous quite quickly and found himself tugging on the collar of his shirt every so often as if he was struggling to inhale enough air. His palms continued to sweat throughout the night and his voice remained weak every time he tried to talk. The dinner was awkward. Even Harry would admit it, though he couldn’t speak loudly enough for anyone to hear such a confession.  
“Are you okay, Harry” Freya spoke weakly, her nervous tone shocking Harry and calming him down slightly as he realized he was not the only nervous one tonight.  
“You look like you’re gonna be sick”  
And then Harry felt like he was actually going to be sick, and he regretted ever watching those stupid Romantic-Comedy’s with Gemma (He really did hate them now) because they taught him to go through with this stupid plan that both him and Freya were uncomfortable with.  
“Um” Harry spoke as he began to cough. “I love you.” He gasped out, but Freya didn’t care to notice, focussing to intensely on the nature of Harry’s health at that point in time.  
Harry reached for a glass of water and chocked it down while Freya rushed to his side and grabbed his Asthma inhaler from his jacket pocket and shook it up before forcing him to cough back two drags of the frustrating medicine. 

As Harry gained his breath again, Freya looked into his eyes, care and worry washing over her face.  
“This was all sweet, Harry, really, I loved it, but maybe we should just go home”  
She spoke, not really questioning him in anyway. And with that they left, and Harry dropped Freya home, insisting he felt fine and that he didn’t need to stay, when truthfully he felt to embarrassed to spend the night with her staring at him. So Harry went home and thought of another way he could tell Freya he loved her.


	4. Sleep Whispering

##### 4\. Whisper it into her hair in the middle of the night, after you’ve counted the space between her breaths and are certain she’s asleep. Shut your eyes quickly when she shifts toward you in askance. Maybe you were just sleep whispering.

Freya and Harry’s lips continued to meet and then would pull away, each time a moment too soon. Both of them where lying together side by side, squished upon the small single bed of Freya’s. It was the only sized bed that would fit comfortably into her apartment. Harry would always complain about the small size, that it was too little for the two of them. But he would never admit how much he liked the fact they would have to cuddle in closely in order to stay off the floor. Freya’s leg hung lightly over Harry’s thigh, allowing him to gently pet her tender skin, which elected moans of ecstasy from her mouth as it only felt like teasing to her. And with a slightly harsh tug by Harry, Freya found herself straddling his waist. her hands clasped together behind Harry’s neck while his hands gripped her hips, allowing her to slide against the zipper of his jeans as her eyes lulled. Pressing her lips to his she let her tongue search while Harry’s hands gripped her waist tighter and pulled her harder on his lap, rolling her forward and pushing her back. Freya became acutely aware of all that was restrained beneath his jeans as she felt him graze against her clothed sex. 

As Freya circled her hips she began to feel lightheaded, she whimpered at the feeling of Harry rubbing against her clit. Eventually, too caught up in their feeling of passion, both Harry and Freya hastily pulled off their clothes. Freya was flipped onto her back, and her spine arched as she felt Harry sliding up and down against her. Pulling her hips towards him and off the bed, Harry pushed in causing Freya’s to gasp at the fullness of him and the slight burn of the oh so familiar stretch he caused.  
“Fuck” Freya whimpered softly, as if the amount of pleasure she felt at the time was a secret even Harry could not know the full extent of. Harry kept pushing his hips forward, then jutting back incredibly slightly only to push forward once again, and further than the time before. Harry’s hips pushed as far forward as he could, allowing Freya to feel him in the pit of her stomach and loose her breath at the sensation. 

“Shit” Harry cursed softly into Freya’s ear as his head rest into the dip of her shoulder. “I can feel you, Freya” And Freya whined at the sound of her name escaping his lips in a forced pant. “You’re gonna come right?” She could only nod in response as she bit down on her lip too scared to make a sound, fearful that she would scream wildly. “I am too, baby”.  
Again, Harry pulled back and drove forward hard sending her over the edge and into state of euphoria and riotously intense pleasure. The pressure of her orgasm encouraged Harrys, sending him into a hot mess of indulgence above her.

Panting together, Freya took hold of Harry and kissed him repeatedly; she kissed his lips, his neck, she kissed hi torso and his forehead. Each kiss as tender as the one before and as sweet as the one that would follow. Freya tightly wrapped herself into Harry’s side, hugging him firmly, as if she was scared that he would run away from her. 

Butterfly’s erupted in Harry’s stomach at the feeling of love Freya forced him to experience yet again. Freya’s eyes began to flutter closed and Harry could feel her body hum beside him before he lent down to place a simple kiss on her forehead. Freya’s breathing became lighter and more shallow as she slumped into a dreaming state. Harry’s eyes stayed fixated upon her face, focusing on the space between her breaths, waiting for her to drift off completely.  
Sure she had fallen into a sleeping state, Harry leant forward and placed his nose to Freya’s head, allowing him access to whisper into her ear.  
“I love you” he murmured. Freya flinched slightly and her eyes, still heavy, softy opened, inspecting the noise she was sure she heard. He face was scowled in focus, her eyes dropping slowly. Harry turned his head to the opposite side, out of Freya’s weak view. He appeared to be sleeping, at least he hoped; maybe she would just think he whispered it out as his eyes fell as heavily as hers while he laid his head to rest on the pillow beside her.

Freya let her eyes fall close once again, and shifted her head to rest on Harry’s chest, her body lay half upon his and her leg drape over him, cuddling into his side lazily. She was comfortable. Harry was comfortable, and couldn’t help but hope ever so slightly, that she heard his affectionate whisper.


	5. Impromptu Dance Parties

##### 5\. Blurt it out in the middle of an impromptu dance party in the kitchen, as clumsy as your two left feet. When time seems to freeze, hastily tack on “in that shirt” or “when you make your award-winning meatballs” or, if you are feeling particularly brave, “when we do this.” Resume dancing and pretend you don’t feel her eyes on you the rest of the night.

Harry stood silently over his kitchen’s stovetop, stirring away at the delicious meal he had prepared for Freya and himself. Freya had called him up around 2 hours ago, begging with her childish voice for him to use his ‘glorious and imaginative kitchen skills’ that she ‘loved so very dearly’ in order for him to make spaghetti, and of course, Harry couldn’t say no. It was Freya after all. 

So Freya made her way over to Harrys house quicker then he imagined she would, and urged him to start cooking like he should have already. And as Harry began, Freya slipped upstairs and reemerged in one of his t-shirt’s. The shirt hung loosely on her shoulders and was big enough on her for it to reach the middle of her thighs, leaving her legs on display for Harry’s adoring eyes. The shirt she wore had navy blue sleeves and collar and a printed logo of one of Harry’s favorite bands ‘The Who’ over an image of a country, or state Freya wouldn’t be able to name, because in all honesty, she had always done poorly in geography. 

Much too tired of the quietness that filled the house as she watch Harry stir at the pot in front of him, Freya found Harry’s phone and placed it into his IPod dock which was positioned to the side of his kitchen bench. As she scrolled through the songs he had managed to download onto the device, she stumbled across a favorite of hers and made sure to turn the docks volume up as loud as was possible before selecting the song and letting it play.

As the familiar beat began to fill Harry’s ears, he whipped his body around to face Freya and the cheeky smirk she had plastered across her lips. Freya began to jump about wildly signing along to the song. Well more like yelling. Well, maybe more like trying not to sound like a dying whale while she spoke the words with mismatched tones.  
“LET’S GO CRAZY CRAZY CRAZY TILL WE SEE THE SUNNnn” She yelled, her voice breaking slightly as she attempted to reach notes she would never be able to hit. Harry’s face grew into a large smile before he burst out into laughter at Freya’s attempt of singing.  
“NOT ALL OF US ARE INTERNATIONAL POP STARS!” She sung loudly along to the tone of the music as Harry continued to laugh at her.  
Freya danced around the kitchen continuing to sing before grabbing hold of Harry’s hand and yanking him away from his position at the stove in order for him to join her in her jumping and twirling motions.

“AND LIVE WHILE WE’RE younggggg” Both Freya and Harry sung the final words together through a bunch of giggles they we’re trying to hold back.  
While the song changed over and began to play Kodaline’s “Latch”, Harry pull’s Freya into him closely, in a smooth move he was sure to question how he managed to pull off later when he tried to fall asleep. They’re bodies begin to move slowly and easily around the kitchen. Harry’s hands were placed softly onto the curve of Freya’s hips and her arms were wrapped loosely around his neck and her head resting upon his chest.  
“How did you do it?” Harry began to sing along, his voice rough yet somehow smooth at the same time. He was intoxicating when singing, and Freya loved to be the only one who heard. “You got me loosing all my breath, how did you give me, to have my heartbeat out my chest?” Freya’s lifted up to find Harry looking down upon her. He smiled shyly and Freya did the same back before pushing her self up slightly, onto her tippy toes, in order to place a single peck onto his gentle lips. After slowly pulling apart, Freya made her way over to the stovetop making sure that Harry’s spaghetti wasn’t burnt. 

“I love you” Harry spoke as she turned around to smirk at him. His comment causing her eyes to grow wide in mild un-expectant shock. “In th-that shirt” He stumbled over his hasty tack-on of words, before rushing over to check on and serve their meal. Freya watched on as Harry stumbled through his house attending to their dinner, the anxiety of his words rushing through him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so, some questions.  
> 1\. Should I do a part 9? Like a kind of epilogue?  
> 2.What is one cute activity you would like Harry and Freya to be doing when he finally tell's her that he loves her? (Like brushing their teeth, or watching TV, you know something cute and quirky?)
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO!!!!  
> in honour of Midnight Memories being released soon! (25th of November if you don't already know!). I was hoping to write A LOT of one shots (Like a one-shot series) based on a couple of their songs off their past two alums. so here are some questions about that.
> 
> 3.Would you like it as a sort of fanfic based on the songs?  
> 4.Would you like it as single oneshots?  
> 5.Would you prefer o/f/c or would you like to be able to win to be the leading lady?  
> 6.Should I do all boys (remembering I struggle a bit with Zayn, Louis and Liam writing, so they'll take longer) or just harry/ or just harry and niall?


	6. Love Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **6\. Write her a letter in which the amount of circumnavigating and angst could rival Mr Darcy’s. Debate where to leave it all day – on her pillow? In her coat pocket? Throw it away in frustration, conveniently leaving it face up in the trashcan, her name scrawled on the front in your sloppy handwriting. Let her wonder if you meant it.**

‘Freya’ Harry began to write, unsure of how to start his letter of confession, but agreeing with his two halves of his mind arguing together that her name, yeah, that would be a good start. He crumbled up the piece of paper and threw it into the trash, it didn’t sound right. Sure, he had only written her name, but it still didn’t sound right. ‘Babe’. Maybe that was better he thought, to start out his confessional with a cute pet name, one that was hopefully soften her heart and open it up to the idea of such an overwhelming admission. No. It still didn’t sound right. He crumbled up the paper and threw it into the bin, once again. ‘Freya, babe.’ It sounded corny, but Harry couldn’t help but think about how corny his love for her was, and decided to keep the text and continue further with his letter. ‘So this is hard, and I suppose it shouldn’t be, I mean, for words so true they should flow steadily and without difficulty, but I suppose I’m just anxious to see how you would react, I hope you don’t throw this in my face, please don’t throw this in my face’. Harry really hoped she wouldn’t throw this in his face; he wasn’t the paper cuts biggest fan.

‘I have something I want to tell you, something I have been debating internally whether to reveal to you or not, I suppose I have been scared that if I was to say it, everything would become so real, but I realise, I want everything to become real.’ Wow. Harry couldn’t help but cringe at his words; to him they sounded nothing more than a far cry from those of someone like Mr. Darcy. His words were full of angst he couldn’t help but write and circumnavigation that was too clearly evident. He probably sounded like a tosser. He re-read his words. Yep, he sounded like a tosser.

Harry roughly ran his hands through his hair, pulling as the tight mane atop of his head, hoping that the stress it caused to his head would triggered his brain to write something beautiful, something Freya would fall in love with, something that would, make her love him back. Harry slammed his head down upon the table he sat at, and instantaneously his head began to throb, making him moan out due to the pain. Scrambling quickly from his chair, knocking it over in the process, he rose and made his way along what now seemed like a long and treacherous journey due to his overwhelming headache in order to retrieve two capsules of panadol, swallowing them whole without even a drink of water, hoping for the pain to subside quickly. Harry’s phone rang in a loud and upbeat tune, signalling to him he had a text message. Making his way back over to the table where he sat only moments ago, he picked the seat he knocked over up from the floor before sitting down upon it. Collecting the phone placed on the table in front of him, he absentmindedly swiped his figure over his lock screen, leading him to his passcode lock. 7394. The numbers where imprinted into his mind. 7394. The meaning to him never lost. 7394. Freya’s birthday. 7th of the 3rd, 1974.

Entering into his messages, he saw the text he received was, conveniently, from Freya. He read the message out loud, and again anther 3 times in his head, imagining the words slipping so elegantly from her mouth. The imagination instantly sparked creativity inside his head and compassion inside his heart. Dropping his phone to his side and picking up his pen, placing it to the paper in front of him.

_‘Freya,_

_I’m so incredibly in love; every time I think of you, I get this warm sensual feeling which creeps up from the pit of my stomach before enrapturing all my words of love for you. When I sleep at night, all I dream about is you, every moment you are not here with me I imagine holding you in my arms, kissing your soft spot, you know, the one behind your ear. All I have to say, though it may not sound like a lot, is a huge confession of my appreciation for you. I love you._  
  
 _Harry. Xx’_  
  
Folding the letter without time to think about how horrible it was, how much it would make Freya cringe, and without time for him to ultimately back out Harry placed it into a plain white envelope before artistically signing Freya’s name across the front in large and bold writing that would surely draw anyone’s attention. He hoped.  
  
A loud knock on the door startled Harry and caused his heart rate to pick up in panic, it was Freya, and he knew it was, that’s what the message he received only moments before detailed. ‘Hey baby, on my way over. Be there in like 5. Treat me to some hugs? Xx Love ya!’  
Clambering from his seat Harry called out in panic, hopping to delay Freya momentarily.  
“Um, uh, give me 5 seconds!”  
“Okay!” She called back, her tone sounding like beautiful music to Harry’s ears. Racing around the apartment Harry was frantic, trying to find somewhere to place the letter, on her pillow? No. In her coat pocket? No. They were all stupid ideas. So, in a mad flash of anger and frustration Harry threw the letter into the bin, though, he did conveniently place make sure it landed on top, her name visible even out the corner of his eye.  
  
Making a dash to the door, Harry welcomed Freya in, pulling her into a tight hug full of admiration and tenderness. Freya’s forehead met Harry’s as she placed a cute, delicate kiss atop of his nose.  
“What do you want to do?” Harry whispered as his eyes locked with hers. His voice was low and deep as if he had only woken from his bed. “Movie day?” Freya mumbled back in reply. Harry simply nodded his head before placing a kiss a top of Freya’s head and pulling away from the hug. “I’ll go get my blanket and some movies from my room, I’ll meet you there” He spoke, pointing to the lounge room in indication of where exactly ‘there’ was.  
  
Harry slowly retreated to his bedroom, leaving Freya to her own devices. She walked absentmindedly around the room before stumbling across the bin, which was left in the middle of what you could call, a walkway. Looking down Freya noticed the simple white envelope on the top of the heap of rubbish with her name delicately written on top in large and bold writing. Picking up the item, which drew her attention, she opened it, reading the endearing confession Harry had written. As she heard the clambering of footstep, Freya quickly shoved the message into her pocket, keeping it for another time where she could admire it properly.  
  
“You coming babe?” Harry called out from the lounge room before sticking his head through the doorway, smirking at her light and playfully. Smiling and nodding her head Freya made her way over to the beautiful and charming man before him, hooking her arms around him as the lay down on the couch, ready to watch whatever movie he decided on. Freya’s mind was constantly turning, her thoughts never able to leave that of the letter Harry had written, unsure whether or not he meant the word that flowed so smoothly. He had placed it in the bin, did that mean his words were not true, or that he was simply to afraid to give it to her, scared she would not return his love.  
  
Freya her self was now too scared. Too scared to ask if the words were true. She hoped they were though. She loved him as well.


	7. Something Terrible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7\. Wait until something terrible has happened and you can’t not tell her anymore. Wait until she almost gets hit by a car crossing Wabash against the light and after you are done cursing at the shit-for-brains cab drivers in this city, realise you are actually just terrified of living without her. Tell her with your hands shaking.

Walking out of their local Tesco’s side-by-side, Freya and Harry were amongst a fit of giggles as they listen to the ridiculous jokes role from Harry’s mouth. Harry’s face was glowing with a bright smile, evidently proud of himself for being able to make the girl he loved so dearly laugh until her hearts content with jokes he had been told so many time’s were awful, followed closely by the ever harsh ‘So just shut the fuck up.’

“Okay, Okay, I’ve got another one!” Harry chirped out excitedly through his almost painful laughter. Glancing to his left and tilting his head down an inch in order to look into Freya’s eye’s he couldn’t help but noticed, what to him, looked like excitement and enjoyment in her eyes, all of which were cause by him, making him feel slightly smug and increasingly confident around her.  
“Go on then” Freya encouraged as the two stepped up to the curb of the sidewalk, waiting for a gap in the traffic to appear, which would then allow them to cross.  
“What’s a frog’s favourite drink?”  
“What?”  
“Croka-Cola” Each word Harry spoke was laced with expectation for the laughter he hoped would fall from Freya’s light and supple lips.

Her amusement ran loud through Harry’s ears as they both continued to chuckle with each other, finding fun in the small things.   
“You know these jokes are horrible right?” Freya chuckled out. Harry’s smile dropped instantly, he was sure she was enjoying them, hell, she had been laughing, that’s a sign of enjoyment right? Freya’s head slanted upwards as she noticed Harry’s had fallen, along with his ridiculously large smile.  
“But, like a good horrible” She explained and Harry’s head lifted once again, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.  
“Like they’re so bad, you can’t help but laugh.” She looked at Harry with a sweet smile, laced with nothing but what seemed like admiration of him.

“You’re good like that.” Freya continued. “You’re just so silly and goofy, and it’s so cute and sweet, that you just can’t help but laugh, and well, enjoy you.” Harry wasn’t sure what to say in that moment, because he was pretty sure Freya was explaining what she loved about him, and normally this whole situation involved the two in the opposite places. So, Harry just smiled and blabbered out something about “stop being so sweet, you’ll give me a cavity” which cause Freya to laugh again.

Eventually, as a gap appeared in the traffic before them, Harry stood onto the road and made hi way across, three grocery bags in each hand while Freya followed behind him closely, insisting that he should let her at least carry one of the bags, though Harry wasn’t having any of it. Continuing to reuse Freya’s plea’s Harry strolled ahead of the fair skinned beauty before feeling his left hand fall weightless at the loss of the three bags. Harry watched Freya with a shocked expression as she ran ahead of him giggling while swinging the bags she had swiped seconds before along side her.

“Hey!” Harry called out as he raced ahead to catch up to Freya, a mock pout overshadowing his face. Freya simply giggled as she hurried across the road to Harry’s car parked on the curb. A sudden Whoosh and honk of a horn-echoing pass the girl nocked her to the feet and cause Harry to jump.  
“FUCK FREYA ARE YOU OKAY?!” Harry yelled out instantly, dropping the bags in his hands before rushing over to the girl he loved and lifting her off the ground where she sat, shocked by the event, which just took place.  
“Shit, what and idiot, YOU DICKHEAD DON’T YOU WATCH THE ROAD WHEN YOU ARE DRIVING” Harry called out to the car which was long gone by now, he was shaking and Freya was still, still recovering.

Taking her over to the car and holding her beside the passenger door, Harry continually asked Freya how she was, never taking her “Harry, I’m fine, it was my fault anyway” as an appropriate answer, and only replying with a “No, Freya, it’s not! Are you sure you’re okay?” Freya started to laugh as Harry continued to ask the same question over and over again, and Harry couldn’t help but grow angry at her carefree attitude towards the whole ordeal.   
“Freya, stop laughing, shit, that really cared me okay, what if he actually hit you? What if he hit you and you got seriously hurt? What would I do with out you?” Harry rambled before sighing and placing his forehead against Freya’s softly, his eyes clamping shut.  
“Shit, Freya. I love you so much, what would I do without you.”

And as if those three words never flew from Harry’s mouth, Freya petted the back of his head and kissed his nose, trying to comfort him.  
“Harry it’s okay, I’m fine, okay? I’m fine. It was my fault, but I’m here, it was just a bit scary okay.” She whispered into his ear, soothing his anxiousness and trembling state.  
“Shit, be more careful next time then, okay?” Harry grumbled, and Freya laughed once again.  
“Okay.”  
“I love you, and I don’t know what I would do with out you” he mumbled out once again and Freya simply continued to pet his head and kiss his nose, hearing every word he said and understanding this was not how he wanted to say it.


	8. I Love You Too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **8\. Say it deliberately, your tongue a springboard for every syllable. Over coffee, brushing your teeth side-by-side, as you turn off the light to go to sleep – it doesn’t matter where. Do not adorn it with extra words like “I think” or “I might.” Do not sigh heavily as if admitting it were a burden instead of the most joyous thing you’ve ever done. Look her in the eyes and pray, heart thumping wildly, that she will turn to you and say, “I love you too.”**

When Harry woke in the morning, his body warm from the heat that Radiated of Freya’s as he held her close in his sleep, he for once, was not scared. He was not scared of Freya and her overwhelming beauty, or her simple yet intriguing personality. He was not scared of their relationship, and he was not scared of his love for her. Harry was happy and was confidant was pleased and refreshed, and he sure as hell felt in love with the face, body and soul of the fair-haired girl beside him. Harry rose quietly from the bed he had shared with the girl the night before in order to allow her to sleep without being disturbed, and made his way out of his bedroom and down the hallway to his kitchen, preparing coffee for the two of them. Harry had learnt lately, that the nights he spent asleep in the same bed as Freya where the night they both felt well rested, which led to the mornings when they struggled to wake fully from their sleepy bliss. This was the reason for the coffee he was now brewing. 

Within minutes, as Harry had suspected, Freya rose and made her way out to the kitchen to join Harry, and upon entry Harry gave her the most recent cup of coffee he made.  
“Thanks” Freya whispered thankfully, sleep still evident in her voice.  
Harry admired her as she sat at his dining room table with a cup of coffee held in both her hands and close to her chest as she tried to absorb the heat from the drink in order to keep warm. She lent slightly over the table, peering down at the newspaper that sat before her as she sipped away at the hot beverage. Her hair was tasseled and was pulled to the side in an attempt to keep some of it out of her eyes as well as her face. 

As Harry watched Freya from his place in the kitchen, his lips wound up into a goofy grin as he admired her. He would sip away at his coffee only moments after she would hers, not intentionally, but as if he was so distracted by her presence that every sip she would take would remind him of his own drink in hands. Freya’s head lifted up from glancing down towards the newspaper and turned towards Harry who remained in the kitchen. She noticed the silly smile that laced his face and giggled at the sight, grabbing his attention.  
“What?” Harry wined out, sounding like a little child who was left out on a joke.  
“Nothing” Freya giggled out. 

Harry, not satisfied with the answer he was given, placed his coffee down on the bench before him and made his way over to Freya, taking hold of her coffee and placing it down before her before tickling her sides and asking her again.  
“What, Freya? Tell me” Harry chuckled out. Freya had no hope in replying, her laughter taking hold of all of her breath and the tickles distracting her.  
“Sorry? What did you say? I didn’t quite get that.” Harry mocked as he continued to tickled the beauty he got to call his girlfriend.

Freya continued to squirm in Harry’s arms before managing to gain enough breath in order to cry a loud and repetitive mercy, stopping Harry’s relentless and tortuous tickling. Freya rose from the table and made her way back into and through Harry’s bedroom, into his bathroom. Harry followed close by curious to what she was doing; thinking that maybe she had went that way in order to go back to bed, and that if so, he would join her.   
“Where are you going?” Harry finally asked.  
“To your bathroom” She spoke slowly acting as if she was under investigation, before giggling. Harry went to retreat before stopping at Freya’s words.  
“’M just gonna brush my teeth” she explained, which only cause Harry more confusion.  
“With what?”  
“My tooth brush”  
Harry’s eyebrow quirked at her statement as he tried to remember when she ever brought around a toothbrush to his place.  
Searching through the bathroom drawer, Freya collected her toothbrush, as well as Harry’s and handed it too him, before adding the toothpaste to hers, watering it down, and beginning to brush her teeth. Harry followed suit. 

Harry couldn’t help but think, though a small gesture, Freya keeping a toothbrush in Harry’s bathroom sink indicated she planned to stay, and that made Harry happy. It made Harry think about how much he loved Freya, and how she never made him scared to love her (even though his own mind sometimes did), and that she was a beautiful and wonderfully kind and gracious girl that he was lucky to be in love with. And with that though, Harry spat the foam from his mouth, rinsed with water, placed his toothbrush to the side and turned to Freya, and without a moments hesitation, or a long monologue that consisted of way to much detailed thought of his process, Harry spoke assertively.   
“I Love you”  
And Freya followed his action before replying with out a stutter in her words or a hitch in the back of her throat.  
“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Wow, this is the final part, like I actually completed a FanFiction.**
> 
>  
> 
> So omfg, I'm sorry it took so long, but I hope you enjoyed it.


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